Postcards from Paris: {La vie sur la Seine}

I found myself lost in my imagination of being in Paris when Spring comes, living on a little boat like one of these. Soaking up warmth from the light of the sun. The trees lining the river all full of leaves, all green. Fishing just for the sport of it. Picnics on red and white checkered table-cloths with fresh baguettes and strawberry jam. Reading Hemingway. And Berthillion's ice cream just a small walk away on the Ile-Saint-Louis. Sandals and sun-bleached hair.
I must admit, I have been staying indoors lately, and missing the unknown of what a day out and about would bring to pass. It's just been a bit too nippy, for a bit too long. I have grown just a bit too tired of wearing the same heavy winter coats, and I embrace the words of a French man who told me that a drastic winter will bring us a beautiful spring. His words are music to my ears and sunrays to my skin.


bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {poupée de l'atelier de réparation}

We went walking this evening, and we found ourselves distracted by the illuminated night windows. There I was taking pictures like a madman of these dolls' heads in the window. We briefly read about the man of the shop, who does the repair work for broken doll faces. It is charming to think of this old man, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, with white hair, and an apron working in his shop, surrounded by the faces of dolls. I like to think that he can make his living just by repairing dolls. Him, fixing two faces; the sad face of a little girl along with the face of her broken little doll's, it brings a smile to mine.
And a nice concept; if something breaks, fix it instead of replacing it.



bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Gilded Gold}

The sun is as fickle as can be. One day it shows itself, let's be honest, the sun was flaunting itself: out and about while I was stuck indoors at my internship. Then the next day; today, when I am free to roam the exteriors of Paris, the sun hides behind a thick mask of grey clouds, all-day long. I kept waiting for it's debut, but no flaunting, not even a mere ray shown through.
On an optimistic note; cloudy days, afterall, offer high-saturated tones. The gilded gold accents during my walk from St. Michel through the Tuileries were beaming.



Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Chinese New Year/Saint Valentin's Parade}

We had ourselves a celebration yesterday.
The street was filled with people. Children with balloons. Face paint. Drums. Jugglers. Brass Instruments. Puppets on stilts. Glitter. Confetti.
The crepes stands were as potent as ever.
And the cotton candy was as fluffy as could be.
Chinese New Year's and Valentine's Day combined, equals some fantastic parade.







bisous,
Reba

Valentine's Day

Ahh, a day of exuberant warmth in the midst of winter. Nothing like a crackling fire, a cup of steaming hot cocoa and a tiny light blue box to steal your heart. Now Venus really has something to be jealous about!

Postcards from Paris: {Marché à Montmartre}

I had planned to sleep-in; all the way in, until I couldn't sleep-in any further. But as it turned out, with the sun pouring into my bedroom window my plans of laying in bed late were quickly diminished, as were any sign of rain or snow.
I went to my boulangerie, bought my favorite type of freshed baked bread.
Admittingly, along with my sleeping-in plans and any clouds of rain/snow; my loaf of bread was also diminshing. To put a stop to such indulgence I decided that I would jump on the metro. I sometimes find it difficult to eat on the metro because people like to watch you do so, and this put an end to my possible over-indulgence.
I then remembered that in Montmartre, there is a market on each Friday. Located off the Anvers stop along the Place d'Anvers where stands line up with vendors selling their enticements.




Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {PremiereVision}

Yesterday I spent my afternoon with my internship at the much-ado about textile convention in Paris, Premiere Vision. My internship is unpaid, so I was certain to soak up as much as I possibly could from this experience, including:
*people-watching the stylish and fabulous as they pulled, draped, and scrutinized fabric swatches.
*pulling, draping, and scrutinizing all of the fabric swatches for myself.
*looking at all of the new trends predicted for Spring/Summer 2011.
*collecting a bag-full of freebies. Including samples of little candies.
*lunch consisting of a salmon and spinach quiche, finished up with a hot chocolate. and a tarte au citron.
With all of this, courtesy of ma stage plus a head for of inspiration. I didn't mind one bit being an intern.


Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Jules et Jim}

The sense of quirk and unconventionality that echos throughout this film by Francois Truffant is so curious and refreshing. A feeling similar to the freezing, winter breeze coming in from my balcony window, which is slightly ajar. I have my space heater close by, and I am watching Jules et Jim clips, via YouTube. It feels like driving during the winter with the windows down, the heat blasting, and good music in the background.

Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Giving My Metro Card a Face}

Funny story: It happened while my friend Sam was visiting me. I didn't want to admit it then, but I was slightly lost in Montmartre, and I wanted to avoid going through Pigalle. I had an idea of how to get to our destination, but only by the means of the metro. So we found the nearest station to try and hop on to continue with our itinerary. I slid my metro card over the scanner, and what seemed as if it were scolding me, was the sound of a pessimistic buzzer and a red "X" denying me access. I tried again, resulting in another scolding. Then I figured "third time's the charm" but really it ended up being yet another red "X". I tried to explain to the man behind the glass that my card would not work. He took the pass underneath the window onto his side of the barrier. For some reason, which I hadn't understood, he asked for identification. I handed over my Georgia license. He looked at it, said something in French, then grabbed a large pair of scissors. It seemed like the whole ordeal was being played in slow motion. All that I could recognize was in one hand he had those scissors, and in the other hand, my license. My initial reaction was, "no, no, no, no!" and luckily the two words sound the same in both languages. He hadn't helped at all, but just created more frustration. All because my metro card didn't have a face. In the event that I happen to return to that particular station, and if it just so happens that I come into contact with that particular worker, I think I will keep an extra little photo of myself, just for his safe keepings.
* Isabelle, je porte ces lunettes pour tu.*
Bisous,
Reba

Postcards from Paris: {Ma Petite Chambre}

My personal space has always been a contributing factor to my overall creativity. Throughout my years in school, and even at a job, being surrounded by an aesthetically pleasing environment evokes influence and inspiration, and keeps the mind thinking and creating. It is essential for me to create a space I can call my own.



With the cold front here, I decided to spend the day bundled up in my new "old" sweater from my newly discovered little thrift store just a few metro stops away. There is some wonderful sense of comfort by staying indoors on a cold, brisk, winter day; being bundled up, and drinking continuous amounts of warm beverages.
So as the snow fell diagonal; first from left to right, then from right to left, and then in all different directions throughout today, I felt inspired just by being in my little bedroom listening to Django Reinhardt (a wonderful new discovery, suggested from my co-worker, Clemence) in a space I can call my own.
Bisous,
Reba